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HE DAKOTA PLAYMAKERS 192C 



flatmate pia^s 

Written by Students of the University of North Dakota 

as Glass Work in the Course in 

DRAMATIC COMPOSITION 



Edited by 
FRANZ RICKABY 

Assistant Professor of English 
University of North Dakota 



No. 4 



Series E 



HIS WIFE'S PLACE 



(An Adaptation of the Story by Clarence Buddington Kelland) 

by 

Ruth L. Baughman 



Published 

by 

THE DAKOTA PLAYMAKERS 

of the 
University of North Dakota 



The University of North Dakota 



1^ 



The Playmalcer Plays are copyrighted, 1920, by The Dakota 
Playmakers, of the University of North Dakota. 

There is for the present no royalty fee attached to the produc- 
tion of these Plays. The Playmakers ask, however, that in the case 
of every production suitable public recognition be given the Uni- 
versity and the writer of the play. 

The story of which this play is an adaptation, is used by per- 
mission. 

Copies of the Plays may be obtained, at the rate of fifty 
cents each, from the Dakota Playmakers, University, North Dakota. 



©CL3 55834 



OCT -5 1920 



TMP92-008626 



THE PLAYMAKER PLAYS 

A GENERAL FOREWORD 

As indicated on the cover of this pamphlet, the Playmakei 
Plays represent the collaboration of the Dakota Playmakers, the 
dramatic organization at the University of North Dakota, and the 
University course in Dramatic Composition, offered first by Pro- 
fessor Frederick H. Koch in 1915, and for the past two years by 
the editor of this series. 

These plays make no pretentions to surpassing excellence in the 
various elements of dramatic writing. They are merely little ex- 
periments done as laboratory work in a course which has as its chief 
purpose, not the immediate fashioning of playwTights, so much as the 
steady recruiting of the ranks of those who can appreciate drama from 
each of the several angles of appreciation. 

The purpose behind publication in this case is the supplying of 
high-school societies and other amateur groups in the territory which 
this University serves, with these examples of native drama. This 
purpose had its birth in frequent queries, from outsiders who had 
seen or heard of the University productions, or from graduated 
Playmakers who had taken part in them, as to whether or not the 
plays were available for general use. They were not. Quite com- 
monly there was no extant copy of the play in question. It w-ill be 
impossible to include in this series any of the plays written previous 
to 1918-19, among them some excellent ones, because the manu- 
scripts are not now available. 

It is a source of w^arm satisfaction to the editor that literally 
scores of citizens of this state will feel a deep and living interest in 
these plays, for having either written them or acted in them, or for 
bearing some peculiar relationship to those who did. These are 
truly "our little plays" ; we conceived them, and we have acted them. 
They are not masterpieces, but they are clean, and they have enter- 
tained our neighbors and friends. Some of them picture North 
Dakota men and women in the business of living; all of them repre- 
sent the North Dakota student in the business of adapting and 
building. 

To the cause of Native American Drama the Playmakers dedi- 
cate their plays, and bespeak for them the attention and interest of 
all who like to hear a story and take sides in a conflict, and who at 
the same time believe in beginnings. Encouragement alone will 
beget more and better plays. For those who would be too harshly 
critical we might quote a line from one of our earlier plays, the 
words of an old Scandinavian mother to her newly returned super- 
cilious and over-educated son: "Vel, Alf, dis is all ve got!" 

F. R. 



STAGE PLOT 




CHARACTERS: Carter Payan, A returned army officer. 
Mary Payax, His wife. 
Mr. Hf.xry Sears, A bank president and old 

friend of the Payans. 
A Maid. 

SCENE: Li\ing room of the Payan apartment. 

TIME: 1918. Five o'clock one winter afternoon. 



His Wife's Place was presented by The Playmakers on their 
Play-Stage at the University on the evenings of April 15 and 
16, 1920, with the following cast of characters: 

Carter Payax Richard L. Baughman 

Mary Payan Ruth L. Baughman 

Mr. Sears William Hagen 

A Maid Edna Hesketh 



HIS WIFE'S PLACE 

The rising curtain discloses the living room of a richly and 
tastefully furnished apartment in New York City. There is a 
draped archuay at the center back which opens obviously into a hall. 
On the walls are a number of good pictures. Several comfortable 
chairs, a beautiful rug, a davenport before the lighted gas grate at^ 
the right, and floor lamp near the upper end of the davenport. To 
the left is a large library table and a leather-upholstered armchair. 
On the table is the buttO'U of ait electric bell. There is a single^ 
door at the left. 

Carter enters through the center doorway, tall, good-looking, 
but rather arrogant appearing. He is at present distinctly out of 
sorts and looks as though he not only had his feathers ruffled the 
wrong way but also as though he might soon becofne distinctly angry. 
He takes off his coat, hat and gloves, at the same time looking the 
room over with a sneer on his face. He examines a couple of pictures 
on the wall, touches the hangings contemptuously , throws his things 
on a chair up-stage and sits on davenport before the fireplace. 
Clenches hands, resting his head on thejn, and stares grimly into the 
fire. 

Mary enters from the left. She is a pretty, capable looking 
little lady in a business woman's garb; a modish suit skirt and a 
simple white blouse. She seems both sweet and sensible. She goes 
enthusiastically toward Carter. ..Speaks.) Oh, Carter, I beat you 
home tonight. It's been the best day! You'll never guess the big 
surprise I have for you. (Carter doesn't respond in any way.) Why, 
Carter, what's the matter? (Goes closer to him. Rings for the maid.) 
Aren't you well, dear? (Carter still doesn't respond. Enter Maid. 
Mary indicates that she is to remove Carter's wraps. Exit Maid. 
Mary goes toward Carter solicitously.) What have you been doing 
with yourself all day? 

Carter — (Shortly) Thinking. 

Mary — Did you see Mr. Whitney this morning? 

Carter — (More shortly) Yes. 

Mary — What did he say? 

Carter — (Bitterly) Offered me m>- old place — at twenty-two 
hundred and fifty. 

Mary — (With enthusiasm) Oh splendid! That's a raise, isn't 
it. So many of the returned men are having to take less, or are even 
finding it hard to get places at all. 



Carter — {Resentfully) Splendid! Anybody would think I was 
your half-witted brother that you were praising for being able to earn 
a quartei; mowing a lawn. 

IVIarv — {Surprised at his tone) Why Carter! It is splendid. I 
mean it. Between the two of us we're earning over $6,000! Why 
we're rich. And when I tell you about the wonderful surprise — 

Carter — {Rising and confronting her suddenly) Mary, do you 
mean to say that you are going on working? Do you think I shall 
let you go on working? 

MAR^' — {Beivildered and hurt) 1 don't see why not. There's 
no reason why I shouldn't. There are just the two of us — 

Carter — {Breaking in harshly) Just the two of us can live on 
what I earn. 

Mary — Of course we could, but the way 1 have it planned — 

Carter — Yes, the way you have it planned you'd have me the 
laughing stock of all the men. ( Changing his voice to imitate his 
conception of the mincing voice of gossip) "There's Carter Payan. 
pretty soft for him, what? Wife earns twice what he does. Won- 
der how much she allows him for spending money?" — That's the 
kind of thing everybody'd be saying about me. 

Marv — That's perfectly silly, Carter, and vou knov. it is. 

Carter — I know it isn't. Why, every man of the old gang I saw 
today said practically that very thing. Old man Summers comes 
up, slaps me on the back, tells me how glad he is to see me safe 
home and then says, "Just saw your wife over at the office. Pretty 
soft, old scout, pretty soft! It isn't the first cost of a wife with 
most of us that bothers; it's the upkeep; but you've solved it Car- 
ter. Great stuff ! Get married and two can earn more than one. 
If either one of you has to stay home and wash the egg off the 
breakfast plates, it'll have to be 5'ou. If you aren't careful Mary'll 
be the best man in the family." — That's what I've got all day. It's 
what they're all saying and thinking about me already. 

Mary — {Evenly) Nonsense; Mr. Summers is an old, old friend 
of both of us, and you know he was only teasing you. 

Carter — {Warinly) Teasing nothing. He was saying what 
he believed. 

Mary — {Nettled by his attitude, speaks defiantly) Well, what 
of it? 

Carter — {Angrily) Just this. You quit your job tomorrow and 
stay home where a woman belongs. 

Mary — {Taking herself firmly in hand) Now, Carter, try to be 
reasonable. It isn't sensible to throw away all that money just 
for your sill\ pride. You know that I'd rather be in my home tend- 
ing to a woman's duties, her house and her children. You know I 
want all that, but it can't be until we are able to suitably provide for 
a home in the truest sense of the word. I want my children to grow 
up with all the education and advantages that make for a broad and 
beautiful life untouched by the restrictions that poverty im- 



poses. The fact that I'm getting more money than you is all a 
sort of accident, but we would be foolish not to profit by it. You 
know very well that in ordinary times I couldn't earn half what you 
do. But the war — and all. If nearly every man in our office hadn't 
enlisted or been drafted, I should be getting a quarter of what I am. 
But they had to have somebody. I needed something to do to keep 
my loneliness at arm's length. I applied for the position, I got it, 
and I — I was lucky enough to make good. It's no reflection on you. 

Carter — It is a reflection on me. Would you like to be told 
that your wife was the best man in the family? 

Mary — I could stand to be told a lot for four thousand dollars 
a year — when I knew it was not so. 

Carter — Well I can't and shan't. You quit tomorrow. 

Mary — {Angered at last) I'll quit when I'm good and ready. 
I've a right to work if I wish. I'm your wife, but you don't own 
me. I've some rights. There's no reason why I shouldn't help out 
when I can, and I'm going to. When there's a chance to save a lot 
of money and get into a position where we're safe, I have a right 
to insist that we profit by it, and I'm going to insist. {Stopping 
suddenly) Oh, Carter, here we are quarreling like two children 
and Mr. Sears will be here any moment. I've invited him to dinner. 
Come let's dress for dinner and when we've both cooled off I'll 
tell you about a wonderful opportunity and we'll talk it over 
quietly. 

Carter — {Raging) By heavens, we won't wait. We'll settle 
this thing now — now. Do you understand that? 

Mary— (CoW/y) It isn't necessary for all the neighbors to hear 
you. 

Carter — {Sneeringly) You're mighty careful of the neighbors. 
What the devil do I care about a few neighbors when the whole town 
is talking about me? I've heard nothing else all day. {Strides sav- 
agely up and down the room) I've had enough. I'm through. I've 
pleaded and begged you to act the way a wife ought to, and you've 
refused; now I'm going to tell you. I'm your husband and what I 
say goes. 

Mary — {Holding herself in check) Carter, go and get ready 
for dinner. Mr. Sears will be here any moment. When you are 
reasonable we'll talk. 

Carter — We'll talk now. This thing is going to be settled 
before I move from this spot. You're my wife — anyhow I thought 
you were. I've tried to be a decent sort of husband, even if I 
haven't been able to buy you expensive pictures with which you've 
adorned the walls since I left for France. I won't be treated like 
this. I won't stand it. An old friend tells me you're the best man 
in the family ; an old hen stenographer in the office twits me that 
\'ou can earn more than I do. All my friends grin and tell me 
what a soft snap I have. How would you like that? Would you 
stand it ? 

—5— 



Mary — Nobody thinks anything disagreeable, Carter. You're 
unnaturally sensitive. Try to look at this sensibly. There isn't a 
man who has spoken to you who doesn't wish his wife were doing 
what I'm doing. Nobody's twitted you. 

Carter — {Roughly) What I want to know is. what are you 
going to do? 

Mary — {Coldly calm) — I'm not going to talk about it w'hile 
you're in this state of mind. 

Carter — You're mighty independent. Four thousand dollars a 
year makes for a lot of independence, doesn't it? You don't need 
me any more with my piker's salary. You'd just as soon I cleared 
out, I suppose. 

Mary — (Distinctly j and ivith intention. There are limits to 
even a woman's endurance.) — I don't know but I'd rather, if j'Ou're 
going to act this way. 

Carter — Arc you going to quit that job? 

Mary — No. 

Carter — ( Threateningly ) Mary ! 

Mary — {With chill in her voice) If you're going to have dinner, 
please dress. 

Carter — You're not going to obey — ? 

Mary — {Turning on him furiously) Obey! I'm going to do ex- 
actly as I want to. Obey! Do you think you can order me about 
like a servant? I've had all I can stand of this. Either be quiet 
and dress for dinner, or I'm going to leave this room. 

Carter — {Bellows) Are you going to quit that job? 

Mary — I'm going to keep my position as long as I can hold it. 
Now 3'ou know. And that's final. {She brushes past Carter and out 
the door at left, banging it behind her. CARTER starts toward door, 
turns furiously and paces up and doivn the room, frowning and biting 
his lips. At last stands in front of fireplace with his back to center 
door. 

Maid — [Enters at the back to announce) Mr. Sears. (CARTER 
turns. Mr. Sears enters through center door. He is a genial old 
man in the neighborhood of sixty years; rather stocky in stature, 
with hair and mustache well grayed. He wears a dark gray business 
suit. He strides up to Carter and seizes his hand, holding and shak- 
ing it through the next two speeches.) 

Sears — Well, Carter, my boy, I'm glad to see you safely back. 

Carter — {Pulling himself together and shaking hands) Thank 
you. I'm glad to be back, of course. 

Sears — We're all proud of the way you helped clean up on the 
Kaiser. {He sits in the chair by the table: Carter sits on the lou'er 
end of the davenport) Bless my soul, when you were a kid I never 
thought I'd see the day you'd be leading a comp'ny of soldiers to 
France ! 

—6— 



Carter — {Rapidly thawing in the ivarinth of his old friend's 
reminiscent mood) To tell the truth, I never thought I would 
myself. 

Sears — {Rather quiver) B}' gracious! The day you left I'd have 
given anything if 3'our dad and mother had been living, to see you. 

Carter — Dad was a great lover of the army. 

Sears — Well, I should say so! You weren't any more than a 
yard high when he bought you a wooden sword and a pop-gun. Your 
mother used to be scared to death you'd hurt yourself with 'em, 
but your dad would w^itch you by the hour marching up and down 
and around, playing soldier. 

Carter — Well, there wasn't much playing at soldier this time, 
I'll tell you. 

Sears — I'll wager not! But Jove! I wish I'd been twenty years 
younger. And Sally said, when you went, she wished she was in 
Mary's place. There's nothing of the slacker about Sally either. 

Carter — I hear she was in charge of a good deal of our Red 
Cross work all during the war. 

Sears — {Affectionately) Yes; and I don't know how many 
refugee garments she's made with her own hands. 

Carter — She's a wonderful woman. 

Sears — She is that. And you've got a wife just like her. I'll 
wager you're glad to get back to the little lady. My boy, she was 
a wonder while you were gone! 

Carter — {Moves uneasily, as though about to be touched on a 
tender spot.) Yes. 

Sears — She's a wife to be proud of; she's the best little business 
woman I know. By gracious, Carter, between you and me, a wife 
like that is a man's greatest asset. My wife was just like her. We 
married on nothing. I was a grocer's clerk and she was a dress- 
maker. 

Carter — {Astonished.) Mrs. Sears a dressmaker! 

Sears — {Solemnly.) A dress maker. We made a partnership 
of it for the first few years, both of our backs to the wheel. You 
see, we knew it wouldn't do to have children if we were going to 
be grubbing along all our lives, so the quickest way to make a home 
was for both of us to work together. We saved enough so, at 
twenty-live, I could start a tiny grocery in a country town. She 
helped. Every cent she made we saved, and when the store was 
started she kept the books and worked behind the counter on Satur- 
days. When our children came we had enough money to surround 
them with the beautiful things of life, our home was perfectly har- 
monious, my wife was free from all worry and anxiety over financial 
matters; she was free to expend her time on the training and edu- 
cation of her children. Those years we worked together seemed 
the most worth-while years of our life. Those were different days — 
in those days marriage was a real partnership, and both parties gave 



to it all they had. It seems to be different now. It does my heart 
good to see >ou two \oung folks pulling together so well. 

{Carter u'inccs at the last feu' sentences of this speech.) 

Carter — Your wife a dressmaker and l^eping books in a coun- 
try store. Well, sir. one would never believ'e it to look at her now, 
a leader in society. alwa_\'S — 

Sears — Yes, sir, it's a fact; and if it hadn't been for her I'd 
never been what I am today. It wasn't her savings alone, but the 
force she put behind me. She made me succeed, and it looks to me 
as if your wife were the same sort. 

Carter — {IVeakly.) Times have changed though. I'm twitted 
about my wife working. 

Sears — By imbeciles! I know it irks a little. It irked me to 
have my wife making dresses. But who cares for that today? 
Tlu' trouble with so many youngsters is that today is so darn im- 
portant. It amounts to nothing. The day that counts is ten years 
off. {Breaking off) Well, well, I suppose 1 might get down to 
business. Of course your wife has told you all about my proposition, 
but as she was kind enough to invite me for dinner, I thought I 
could go over it with you myself just to clear any little details. 

Carter — {Beivildered, uncoinprehending , but ashamed to {live 
himself away) Er — oh, yes, certainly. 

Sears — {Getting papers from his inside pockets) What's your 
opinion of it? 

Carter — {Fighting confusion) Wliy — I think — the — yes — so 
far as I have thought it over, we think it's — all that anyone .could 
ask for — 

Sears — {He looks at the papers, and tve see that he is near- 
sighted — fortunately for Carter) Rate of interest suits you all 
right? 

Carter — Yes — oh yes — Mary, thinks so too! 

Sears — {Chuckling) Your wife certainly was on the job. She 
may not have mentioned this {speaking confidentially to Carter) 
but it wasn't five minutes after the wire came telling of Wethrell's 
death till she was in her boss's office asking him if you could have 
his agency for their cars. 

Carter — {Feeling his way carefully) It's a pretty good posi- 
tion, isn't it — 

Sears — Good position! Sav, WVtherell's profits last year were 
upward of $15,000. 

Carter — That's a lot of money, isn't it — 

Sears — It surely is, m\ boy, and Buffalo isn't so far from New 
York, you know. Mrs. Payan can run down and spend every week- 
end with you. And even then it won't be so very long until you 
get the note reduced to $5,000, so that she can gi\e up her position 
and you'll be together again — and on easy street. 

Carter — {Startled, afresh hut resolved not to give up the ship) 
Yes — the note — er — 



Sears — It's the best I can do. You see, as your wife told you, 
it takes $10,000 to swing the deal, and we have to have some security 
on loaned money. Your wife thought the terms were fair enough. 
We lend you $10,000 on your note provided she holds her position 
until the note is reduced to $5,000, and your business has proved a 
success. And you'll make a success of it, I've no doubt. Mrs. 
Payan's salary will provide living expenses and there will still be 
plenty to pay up on the note regularly. You'll have all your time to 
make good in the new field and in a few years you should be in- 
dependent. 

Carter — It sounds good. 

Sears — It is good, boy. Take it. I'm loaning this money on 
two grounds — your excellent reputation for industry and honesty, 
and your wife's influence. If you will let her, young man, she will 
make you as my wife made me. 

Carter — But I hate to think of m^- wife providing for the 
family. 

Sears — My dear boy, while you are thinking, remember that a 
family consists primarily of two persons, husband and wife. Re- 
member that it is the duty — the plain, unvarnished duty of each to 
contribute all he has to the whole. You cannot think as individuals, 
but as a unit. One for all and all for one, as Dumas has it. 

Carter — Mr. Sears, I'll have to confess that I have been think- 
ing more lately of all for one and nothing for the whole! You ex- 
pressed a wonderful conception of the family just now. It's honest, 
and sound, {musingly) The family. {Rousing himself) Mr. Sears, 
I'll call my wife to endorse that note. 

Sears-^— Fine! 

Carter — (Goes' to center door and calls.) Mary! Mr. Sears 
is here. (Mary appears dressed for dinner and goes to greet Mr. 
Sears.) 

Mary — (Graciously.) Do pardon my rudeness in not being 
here to greet you when you arrived. I arrived home rather late 
this evening. Will you accept that as an excuse for my tardiness? 

Sears — (Heartily) No excuse is needed, Mrs. Payan. For a 
few moments I was afraid Carter was loathe to become a million- 
aire, so I've just been pointing out a few of the advantages of his 
new position. 

Mary — (Glancing furtively at Carter.) Oh. 

Carter — (Going to Mary and gazing at her hufnbly arid be- 
seechingly.) Yes, Mary, and he's been telling me about his wife who 
was almost as wonderful as you are, dear. Mary, will you endorse 
this note — now? 

M ARY— (Happily.) Really, Carter? Oil, indeed I will! (She 
signs the note.) Carter, I'm so proud of you! 

Carter — Mary, I've learned to appreciate you. But I'm not 
proud of you. You musn't be proud of me either. What we've got 

—9— 



to do is to proud of us. I've waked up. There isn't such a thing as 
you or I. There's just the family. 

Sears — That's the idea. 

Mary — {If'itli shining eyes, going to Carter.) 1 just love the 
family. 

Curtain. 



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